


Dreamwarlock

by Fable



Series: Merlin [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Courage, Friendship, Love, Loyalty, M/M, Magic, Modern Era, Public Display of Affection, Reincarnation, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fable/pseuds/Fable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has waited for centuries, alone with his pain and grief for his King to rise again. That time was now in Glastonbury’s university bar. Small problem, Arthur didn't even know he existed. A story of friendship and love, loyalty and courage, myth and magic.</p><p>Some lives have been foretold – Arthur is not just a King, he is the once and future King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamwarlock

 

   Merlin leant his tired bones against a door frame in Glastonbury’s University bar. It’s mid-winter and there’s a definite chill in the air as he wraps his long overcoat further around his thin time-etched body and refocuses his ancient eyes onto Arthur.

   His thoughts wander as he recalls that fateful day after the fierce bitter battle at Camlann, when he’d laid Arthur’s body to rest at Avalon; he’d carefully placed his beloved King in a barge, and with his heart broken sent it adrift into the mists of time. He’d walked the earth ever since, moving from town to town using his magic to sustain him, but always rotating around Avalon, which, at some point in his extended life, became Glastonbury.

    He is now an old wizened white warlock but his gangly frame and pale skin still hint of his youth, the youth that only comes to him now in his dreams, his years as Arthur’s servant, confidant and… lover, and the land they built together.  His deep cobalt eyes are now a watery blue that reflect all his time on earth, they have a tinge of gold and burn with a fierce intelligence.

   He is now one thousand years old and carries a weight of sadness on his shoulders that none should bear alone.

    Arthur is celebrating his birthday. He is at the age that he was when he died at the battle of Camlann, his heart pierced by the sword of his once loyal knight, Mordred. Arthur has reached the age that Merlin has waited for since his re-birth.

   The bar is now dark and in disarray, it’s late and most people have left. Merlin has been standing for some time, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, shoves his cold hands into his pockets and tips his head to one side to regard Arthur; he was certainly tall and handsome in a typical textbook kind of way, with neat blond hair that falls over a chiselled face and a cocky look in his intense eyes.

   The old sorcerer had watched him grow, first into the boy and then into the man he remembered. Throughout his life he’d planted dreams at specific ages; they recreated the stories of times gone by – when he met his mother, his first kiss with Guinevere, Morgana’s treachery, his beloved knights of the round table and his rise to being the greatest King Camelot had ever known. But most of all they recreated his time with Merlin, their many adventures, their gradual friendship and their love for each other.

    Arthur is tipsy. Merlin watches him down another pint and watches him slide off his chair, royal arms and legs spread out on the litter strewn floor. His much-loved once and future king was now a complete and total prat and entirely unaware of whom he once was.

   Merlin knew that the time he had waited for the lonely centuries, was now in Glastonbury’s university bar. He had to get Arthur to Stonehenge for the sunrise at the Winter Solstice. It was a place of healing and a place where Merlin could make Arthur see his true self. How, was another matter entirely, the man didn’t even know he existed.

    An excruciating hour later Arthur’s unsteady legs, with him in tow, ambled past Merlin.

   ‘Happy Birthday.’ Merlin’s voice quivered, with age and anticipation, he had hoped that his first words to his King after all these centuries, would have been a lot more poetic than Happy Birthday.

    ‘Who are you?’ Arthur’s question wasn’t quite coherent as he staggered and Merlin on an impulse, bred by years of his servitude, shot out a hand to catch him.

    ‘That is not important.’ Merlin’s eyes blazed with a memory - the last few precious days they’d had together, when, at last, Arthur knew who he really was.

   Arthur shuddered under Merlin’s gaze. ‘Do I know you old man?’

   Merlin winced at the old man. ‘You used to… we were friends and... also…’ he tailed off.

   ‘You’re really strange.’ Arthur looked Merlin up and down and then tried to walk off in a straight line.

 _Ok -_ thought Merlin - _it’s a start_. He followed Arthur through the campus; approaching from behind he tapped him on the shoulder ‘Arthur?’

   Arthur leapt out of his skin ‘Good grief man,’ he said while his fists grabbed the material on his chest, ‘don’t go creeping up on people like that, what do you want?’

 _Ok, this is it -_ Merlin thought,  ‘I need you to come to Stonehenge with me for the Winter Solstice,’ – the question was out there, floating above the both of them.

    Arthur’s shoulders rocked as he laughed.  ‘You want _what_? You’re a _complete_ weirdo, you do know that?’

    In silence Merlin burrowed his eyes into Arthur’s very soul.

    ‘You’re joking, right?’ Arthur shifted, ready to flee.

    ‘No, I’m perfectly serious.’  Merlin watched with interest as Arthur took a step back. 

    ‘You are aren’t you? Of course I won’t go with you - go away.’ Arthur shook his head and turned on his heels.

    Merlin did not want to do what he did next, he did not want to resort to magic but he needed to get Arthur to Stonehenge and they were wasting precious time.  ‘ _Underhnigest_ ’ he incanted under his breath.  If Arthur will not go willingly, then for a short time at least, he will have to lose his will.

***

   Arthur came to his senses in a gold coloured car, with Merlin at the wheel. It was a cold dark moonlit night and they were haring along, not quite in control, a winding country lane.

   ‘Urgh.’ he rubbed his head and gaped at Merlin. ‘Where the _hell_ am I?’

   ‘You’re in Excalibur.’ Merlin tried to stay calm, ‘we’re on our way to Stonehenge’

   ‘What! When did I agree to that?’ Arthur’s voice was higher than usual as he pulled the door handle with some force, he had no joy, the door simply didn’t respond. ‘This, my white whiskered friend, is kidnapping.’

   Merlin didn’t answer.

   Arthur’s forehead creased as he spun to look into the old lined face ‘Wait - hang on, you call your _car_ Excalibur?’

   Merlin smiled ‘Oh… So you know the legends?’ Kilgharrah had said that their story would live long in the minds of men and he wasn’t wrong.

   ‘Of course, surely everyone knows about King Arthur and his round table.’

   '- and that is?’

   ‘Erm - I know that Arthur was the first King to sit with his Knights as an equal, not one man was afforded more importance over another.’

   ‘Good, yes good Arthur.’

   Merlin watched with some amusement as Arthur rattled the handle again.

   ‘Stonehenge is a ring of power, I raised it from the ground myself – but that’s another story entirely’ Merlin digressed; nowadays he had a tendency for his thoughts to wander. ‘Sunrise at the Winter Solstice is the time when you will see who you really are.’ Merlin tried not to scare Arthur but was beyond desperate to see his King again.

    ‘And that is…’ Arthur said in a slow and deliberate tone.

    ‘In case you’re interested - I’m not an old lunatic.’

    The look on Arthur’s face begged to differ.

    ‘You _are_ King Arthur, the once and future king. You lived and died one thousand years ago. You were a King among Kings, a hero and a warrior. You commanded great armies and commanded great respect and… you were my friend… and I miss you.’ Merlin wiped away a single tear that was tracing down his cheek.

    ‘ _Erm_ \- you expect me to believe all that?’ Arthur pulled the door handle again and then banged the window.

    ‘Search deep inside yourself Arthur. You have many dreams don’t you, dreams of Knights, swords and sorcery?’ Merlin’s gaze sought out Arthur’s expression.

    Arthur turned his head away and rattled the door handle again, this time Merlin presumed simply for effect. ‘How do you know that?’ his voice was low. ‘Who the _hell_ are you?’

    ‘I’m your friend and your guide, your confidant and your warlock. I’ve lived for more than a thousand years, seen civilisations rise and fall and, in all this time Arthur I’ve waited for your return.’ Merlin’s voice was just as low. ‘You _have_ to trust me.’

    Arthur said nothing. He looked out of the car window at the frosty fields glittering in the moonlight and got out his mobile, his fingers danced on the keys. His phone beeped endlessly with texts until Merlin got tired of it and incanted to put an end to the battery.  Fifty nine minutes was all it took to get from Glastonbury to Stonehenge, but it was one of the longest fifty nine minutes of both their lives. They spent the rest of it in near silence.

***

   The old man and the young man, who just a little over an hour ago were strangers, sat in the car with the engine running for warmth, looking at the majestic standing stones lit up in the headlights, the beams of light showing the blue hues in the stones.

   Arthur broke the silence ‘So - have I got this right - I _was_ King Art-hur, this ‘superking’ who lived centuries ago. I have risen again and you, Mer-lin, have lived through time waiting for just this moment to make me realise who I am?’

    Merlin smiled. ‘Tell me about your dreams.’

   Arthur hesitated and fiddled with his phone. ‘There’s something about you old man,’ he said before he began to tell stories he’d never told anyone else before.

   ‘I often dream of a large pale citadel sat in ancient Kingdom, my Kingdom. I have a Queen called Gwen and many knights surrounding me. There’s dragons, battles and… death, but throughout there’s always one man by my side, he’s my servant but he’s also not my servant, he’s my friend, confident and…’ Arthur’s cheeks flushed an attractive pale pink and he cleared his throat ‘… my …erm, lover.’

   The only noise in the car was the low thrum of the heater fans.

   ‘What was his name?’

   ‘Merlin.’

   They talked through the rest of the night about battles, friends and foes, to Merlin it was like they once were.  In the dim of first light they watched revellers gathering at the stones, young people, old people, people that looked like they had travelled from far and wide to see the winter solstice at the monument. They amassed inside the circle, some singing, some standing silently waiting.

    ‘Are you ready, it’s nearly time to go.’ Merlin touched Arthur’s arm.

    ‘No, and I still think you’re barking mad.’ Arthur rattled the door handle and this time it yielded.

    ‘I mean you no harm Arthur, trust me, and think of it as joining the party.’ The old man opened his door.

    The air was crisp and cold as they walked side by side into the gathering at the centre of the ancient stones, no-one giving them a second glance, how would they know that they were looking at the Once and Future King and his warlock. They stood in silence amongst the throng, waiting. Arthur, Merlin presumed was waiting for the sunrise so he could get it over with and go home. Merlin, on the other hand was waiting for his adored King to return to him and he hardly dared to breathe.

    When the time felt right Merlin’s fingers brushed Arthur’s hand and he jumped as an electric current passed between them. He gave Arthur an encouraging smile and then led him through the crowd to stand in-between two of the vertical stones facing the sunrise. He screwed his eyes shut and willed the earth to turn and bring back the sun. As the sun crawled over the horizon Merlin incanted behind his hand _‘Ágiefep_ _æt mé_ ’ then he held his breath, willing the stones to do their job of focusing the energy and concentrating the spell.

    He watched as the first few rays of weak sun hit Arthur, the stones and then the revellers; Arthur never flinched, never moved just continued to watch the sun’s slow ascent. Merlin felt his vision blur and he became a little unsteady on his feet as his heart hammered so loud that he was sure it could be heard outside of his chest.

   An age passed…

   Arthur made little unclear movements and blinked in the sunlight as he turned to face his servant. Silence, the noise of the cheering crowd disappeared as Merlin saw his beloved King in the fresh young face. ‘Arthur?’ the word choked in his throat, his legs gave way and he collapsed onto his knees bowing his head, his shoulders heaving with invisible sobs.

    King Arthur’s recognition of his timeworn friend spread across his face. He put his hands down and with great care lifted the sobbing Merlin up from his knees ‘Merlin, my faithful friend’ he embraced the old warlock, wrapping him in strong arms and burying his face into the nape of his neck. Merlin’s senses were on fire as he wrapped his own arms around his King’s shoulders and knotted his fingers into the blond hair.

   They stood together, holding on for what seemed like a lifetime. It was in a way, Merlin’s lifetime.

   ‘Merlin, where am I?’ Arthur searched Merlin’s face for answers.

   ‘Avalon.’

   ‘So… the once and future king then?’

   ‘Seems so…’ Merlin laughed ‘Kilgharrah was right, you have risen again.’

   ‘Kilgharrah?’

   ‘Never mind.’

    ‘How many summers and winters have passed?’ Arthur glanced over Merlin’s shoulders at the people milling around.

    ‘One thousand.’

    ‘One thousand, you waited for me, all that time?’ Arthur swayed a little as his forehead lined at the enormity of his friend’s undertaking. ‘How? Magic?’

   ‘Something like that, and I would do it all again.’ A large single tear ran down Merlin’s pale cheek.

    Arthur wiped the tear from Merlin’s face, his old eyes gazing into his friend’s old eyes. A silence that said a thousand words passed between them.

   ‘How come the years have not changed you?’

   ‘I am an old man Arthur.’

   ‘I’m sure, but I meant your looks.’

   ‘What?’ Merlin brought his hands up to study, they were not the thin bony fingers of an old man, they were the hands of a young man. With slow unsure movements he let his fingers explore his face, no snowy beard, and no deep crevasses of age. He pulled some of his fringe down and saw raven black hair in the place of grey. Patting down his body he discovered long toned limbs and a straight back. Merlin tipped his head back and laughed so loud it attracted attention, he didn’t care. His laugh was raucous and unbelieving and it felt so _incredibly_ good; in that moment his centuries of loneliness slipped away.

   He took his Kings’ face in his hands and his heart sung as with half-lidded eyes his young lips crushed Arthur’s young lips. He heard a whimper and realised it had escaped from him as he captured Arthur’s bottom lip between his teeth and traced his tongue along the soft underside. He felt his body being drawn into Arthur’s by strong arms around his slender waist, the King’s body was hot in the early chill as it pressed up against him. They were consumed with a hunger that probably would never be slaked as they devoured each other. All Merlin’s years were in the kiss, laid bare, all his pain and grief and all his passions and desires.

   Every kiss tells a story and their kiss said friendship and love, loyalty and courage, myth and magic.

   Merlin left Arthur’s lips and kissed his nose then, brushing away his blonde hair, kissed his forehead.

   ‘What now?’ Arthur whispered into Merlin’s neck.

   ‘Now, My Lord, we have work to do.’ Merlin took his hand and led him through the crowd and into the new dawn.

 

 


End file.
